Drop A Heart, Break A Name
by x-HotMess
Summary: You know, for a pessimist you’re pretty optimistic. JONAS. Nick/Macy


"I'm sorry, Nick," she shakes her head sadly and stands. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Too late," you cross your arms resentfully and glare at her from out of the corners of your eyes.

She frowns and flicks her bangs out of her eyes, heading towards her car. "See you at school."

Of course you would see her at school. You'd seen her at school every day for the last four years. First you'd seen her apprehensively, cautiously, as she posed a threat to you and your brothers as your number one super fan. Then you'd relaxed, become easier around her as she calmed down and became your friend, one of your best friends. But then you'd started to see her distantly, as first Kevin graduated, then Joe and Stella, and she had gotten a boyfriend. And another. And another. And soon people were whispering things to you about her, but you told them to shut up because they didn't know what they were talking about. You might not see Macy as much as you used to, but she was still your best friend and you knew she would never do any of those things people said she did.

Until one day the guy who has the locker next to you has inconveniently decided to have a very public display of affection with some girl he has pushed up against _your_ locker. You cough loudly and obviously but neither of them takes any notice of you. You look uneasily from side to side to see passers-by, who are clearly more amused by the situation than you are, giggling and whispering in each others ears, pointing and wiggling their eyebrows at each other. You stomp your foot and exclaim loudly "Excuse me, I need to get to my locker."

Your locker neighbour pulls back and grins sheepishly at you, while his girlfriend smoothes down her skirt with one hand and wipes at her sticky mouth with the other. Her eyes meet yours and her cheeks show a hint of red but she covers it defiantly with a toss of her dark hair.

"Sorry about that, Nick."

It suddenly hits you who this girl is and you don't even recognize her. Her skirt is too short, the black lines around her eyes are too thick, and the way she's smiling at the boy who she was attached to at the mouth a few seconds ago is much too dangerous. The sweet, ingenuous girl who used to obsess over you and your brothers has disappeared.

"It's fine, but, uh, if you don't mind," you mumble, propelling her aside so you can open your locker door.

* * *

Nick shifted agitatedly from foot to foot. When you gotta go, you gotta go, and he _really_ had to go.

He rapped his knuckles sharply against the wood of the door. "Can you please hurry up?!"

He bent over at an angle to try and lessen the pressure on his bladder, but he lost his balance as the bathroom door he was leaning on opened, and girl with make-up streaked down her face appeared, wiping her nose on the back of her arm, and she froze when she saw him awkwardly standing there.

He gaped at her for a second, a million thoughts running through his brain. To see her crying was almost unfathomable. What was wrong with her?

"Great," she muttered under her breath, shoving past him and disappearing into the crowd of people at their album release party, and he caught a glimpse of her dashing down the stairs with fresh batch of tears welling up in her eyes.

Nick bit his lip and glanced at his would-be white porcelain saviour, pausing for a few seconds before groaning and following her. He winced as he wrapped his legs around his fireman's pole and slid down, landing unsteadily, and his entire lower body ached in protest.

"Macy, wait!" he called out as he spotted her opening his front door.

"Leave me alone!' she cried, not even stopping before running into the cold night.

He didn't even hesitate this time. Despite being incapacitated by his present condition, he hobbled out the door and set off after her.

There was a footbridge two blocks away that eased over a storm drain, and that's where he saw her slow to a halt, leaning against the handrail and tilting her head up to the night sky, her breathing laboured. He ducked behind a tree and took a deep breath, running over potential options in his head. Eventually he settled on one, and turning to unzip his fly, he relieved himself on the large oak, feeling the tension in his muscles ease and a thankful sigh escaped his lips. Dogs do it all the time, he justified to himself. And there was no way he could help Macy whilst preoccupied with the feeling he was going to wet his pants.

He emerged from behind the tree, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and set off towards the shaking figure ahead of him.

"Hey," he called out softly, and she jumped slightly, before realizing who it was and resumed staring up at the stars.

"Stella told me he'd eat his heart out," she sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering as the wind nipped at her skin.

Nick opened his mouth to ask who was this 'he', but instead he pulled his jacket off his shoulders and held it out to her.

"No thanks," Macy shook her head, taking a step back, still not looking at him.

"What?" he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "C'mon, take it, you're obviously freezing."

"I don't like people pitying me," she scowled, ignoring the warm fabric in his hands.

"It's not pity, it's common sense," he retorted indignantly. "You're going to get hypothermia or something."

"No, I won't," she replied shortly, unable to disguise the goosebumps sprouting up over her body.

"Okay, fine," he shrugged, hanging the jacket over the crook of his elbow and looking her up and down cautiously. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she grimaced, her bottom lip trembling, and Nick couldn't tell if it was from the sadness or the cold.

"Well, for what it's worth, you look really pretty tonight."

Macy let out a bitter laugh and semi-glared at him. "What did I say about pity?"

"It's not pity," he smiled sincerely. "It's the truth."

* * *

"You need to be cured of this ridiculous obsession with love."

"It's not ridiculous, Macy," I sigh, licking my icecream as we dangle our feet off the boardwalk. "It's fascinating."

"It's vomit-inducing," she gags, her blue tongue protruding before she takes another sip of her slushie.

"You don't believe in love?" I raise my eyebrows, fixing a condescending stare at her.

"Of course I believe in love," she rolls her eyes. "I don't believe in romance. C'mon Nick, look around. This is reality."

"Romantic love exists in reality too," I sigh. "You should hear my mom tell the story of how she and dad met."

"How did you parents meet?" she smiles curiously.

"They met at a dance in junior high," I close my eyes with nostalgia as I remember the way my mother's voice lilts as she recounts the moment. "My mom's best friend told her that some guy called Tom Lucas wanted to dance with her. She said he could ask her himself, so he came over and offered out his hand. It only took one dance. They didn't even have to say anything. They just looked into each others eyes for one song. She told him she'd felt like she'd know him her whole life, he said he felt the same. And that was it. Love at first sight."

"Wow," Macy chuckles kindly. "What song was it?"

"Huh?"

"What was the song your parents danced to?" her twinkling eyes pierce mine and for some reason my heart does this little _kerthunk_.

"I've actually never asked," I murmur thoughtfully. "Probably a love song."

"Hmm," she hums, unconvinced. "But you don't know it was a love song."

"No," I huff. "But of course it was. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe being the child of divorced parents has made me a cynic," Macys shrugs a single shoulder, taking another slurp of her frozen beverage. "But not every moment of emotion lines up with the song that happens to be playing at the time, Nick."

"It does for me," I protest. "That's how I write my songs. When I'm sad, I write sad songs. When I'm frustrated, I let it all out on paper. And when I'm in love, I try to get every single feeling that girl brings out in me into tune so she'll know exactly how much she means to me."

"I think when you meet a girl who loves you enough, she's not going to care about your love songs. She's going to care about you," she reaches out and wipes a smudge of icecream off my top lip with her thumb, and there's a moment of silence.

"You know, for a pessimist you're pretty optimistic," I laugh, nudging her arm gently.

"Thanks Nick," she smiles, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and hugging me tightly.

I lean my head on her shoulder and we look out over the sailboats on the lake, and I can't help but feel like this should go on forever.

* * *

"I can't do this."

You crumpled your forehead in confusion and reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away and instead looped the arm through her dress, pulling it down over her head. She smoothed down the hair you just had your fingers entangled in, and stood up.

"Why not?" You didn't mean to sound impetuous, but you were struggling to keep a straight face.

She sighed and looked back over her shoulder at you. "Nick, you know why."

"I thought…" You trailed off, choosing your words carefully. "I thought I would be different."

She bit her lip and leant over you, smelling of that perfume you bought her for her sixteenth birthday. She kissed your cheek and whispered "You are different. Which is why this was a mistake."

"Don't say that," you hissed, pushing her and her sweet floral scent away from you.

"I just don't see how we could ever work," she straightened up, avoiding your eyes so you don't see the tears behind them. "Don't make this harder than it has to be"

"Oh, I'm sorry that I'm making it so hard on you," you spat sarcastically. "Please, don't even worry about how much this sucks for me."

"I know how much this is going to hurt you," she fiercely turned on you. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm not hurting just as much?"

"Then don't hurt," your tone changed dramatically, now you were pleading with her, getting closer, reaching out for her but she won't let you touch her. "Don't walk away. Stay with me."

"I can't," her voice crushed you and you wondered how you even ended up here.

She just came over to give you some opinions on your new solo project, and before you knew it you had gone from standing and laughing in the studio to making out on the floor of it. She was just so pretty and her smile was contagious and you'd missed her so much that you couldn't resist. It's her, it's always been her. Your ultimate weakness you'd never admit.

"Why?" you whispered softly through your congealed throat.

"You and I don't go together, Nick," her voice cracked over your name. "I've always known that. For years now. And so it's either being heartbroken now and healing slowly, or holding on and experiencing unbearable pain later that we might never recover from."

"I won't let that happen," you said determinedly. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"But it probably will," she shook her head sadly. "Once we graduate, you'll go on tour and I'll go to college and there won't be anything to keep us together. And so I choose pain now."

"Because you don't want us together. You don't want to try," you choked out, clenching your fists furiously.

"That is so unfair," she sobbed, "You think I'm not trying to be okay with you leaving me behind? But I'm not the girl who waits anymore, Nick. I'm not waiting for you just to break my heart."

She walked out of your door, leaving you grasping for anything that could make you understand what just happened. What you did understand was the way your stomach was in knots and there was some sort of wetness on your cheeks and you had to write down how you felt because it would make a great song. But you sat down to pour your emotions into music when you realized you didn't have the words and you didn't have the tune to say how utterly devastated you were. And just like that you've run out of love songs.

* * *

"So who did Stella dress you up for, anyway?" Nick broke the silence with a question that had been burning in the back of his mind.

"Van Dyke Tosh," Macy self-consciously kicked at a stone at her feet, and wrapped her arms around herself a little tighter.

"What?" Nick snorted. "I thought you hated him!"

"I never really hated him, I'm just a vicious competitor and he was always competition," she shrugged. "But ever since he lost interest in Stella once she started dating Joe, I dunno, all of a sudden he just got really cute…"

"Even though he cries like a girl?" he sniggered.

"Shut up," she giggled, punching his arm lightly. "I'd just like to date someone who shares the same interests as me, that's all."

"So Van Dyke has a life size JONAS mosaic too?" Nick tapped his chin contemplatively. "I never knew he was a fan…"

"You're impossible!" Macy scolded good-humouredly. "You know what I mean. I thought I had a really good chance, you know, because we're both so into sports, but then he shows up at your party with that gorgeous senior from Spanish class, how am I supposed to compete with that?"

"You don't have to compete with anything, Macy," he smiled, taking her wrist and squeezing it lightly. "If Van Dyke can't see what he's got right in front of him then he doesn't deserve you."

Macy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Mr. Cliché. Thanks anyway," she chuckled, taking his jacket out of his hands and pushing her arms through the sleeves and snuggling into it. When she caught his self-satisfied smirk, she poked her tongue out at him. "Okay, so you were right, I'm freezing."

"Well now at least one of us is warm," he grinned.

Without a moment's hesitation she snaked her arms around his waist and pressed herself firmly against him. He tensed up unsurely for a moment, convinced that she was having one of her moments where she had gone into superfan mode and was going to end up snapping his ribs or something.

"What are you doing?" he gasped though his crushed lungs.

"I'm warming you up with my body heat," she shrugged, loosening her grip and allowing him to breathe easier. "And thanking you at the same time."

"It's a good combination," he breathed in the fruity smell of her hair that was under his chin.

"Thanks, Nick," she murmured into his chest. "You're a good friend."

"You too, Macy," he patted the top of her head. "I'll always be your number one fan."

He wouldn't have traded the delighted smile she gave him for the world.

* * *

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"What was the song that you danced to with Dad on the night you met?"

"Wow, that's such a long time ago. I think it might have been Walking on Sunshine. Why do you ask?"

"You think? You mean you don't know? You don't remember the song that was playing when your life was changed forever?"

"You know what, Nick? I think if you're with the right person, the music and the lyrics don't matter. All you care about is just being with them."

"But the music always matters! It's the soundtrack to your story! The familiar melody that lifts you up and makes you remember how much it means to you!"

"Sweetheart, you're a musician, of course you feel that way. But I guess at the time, the music just took a back seat to the way your father was looking into my eyes."

"I don't believe this! I'm going to find Dad to see if he knows."

"Nice try, but he'll tell you the same thing. We didn't care about the music. We only cared about we felt."

"You sound like Macy did yesterday."

"What did she say?"

"Something weird. First she's like 'romance doesn't exist, blah blah blah', and then she tells me that when you love someone enough, you don't need the love songs."

"She's a smart girl, that Macy. You're going to need her around when you go back to school. Senior year is the hardest, especially when you work so hard already, and when summer's over…"

"Mom, please, spare me another lecture! I can handle it. And Macy's not going anywhere."

* * *

She sits on the boardwalk, her feet hanging a few inches above the water, turning her ankles in absent minded circles. She's been there for half an hour, off in her own little world, thinking about what she was going to wear on her date tonight, if she could convince herself to go from liking her boyfriend to maybe really liking him, that disappointed look in her old friend's eyes when she was up against his locker this morning…

Sighing, she bites down on her thumbnail, trying to erase the image of Nick's face as he realized he didn't know her anymore. She wondered if she even knew herself anymore.

She never used to mind when JONAS went on tour, because Stella was always there to keep her company. Then she graduated and Macy was left alone while her closest friends travelled the world without her. All of a sudden everybody was grown up and she was left in the dust clinging to her innocence like it was the only thing she had left.

Then one day she was sitting alone at a lunch table when Randolph walks over and asks to sit with her. She's flabbergasted.

"Sure, I mean, if you want," she nodded shyly, focusing on her food.

"Yeah, I do," he sinks into the chair opposite her. "Wait, you're not still a JONAS fan, are you?"

Maybe she was just a bit resentful, feeling like her friends had forgotten about her, or she just wanted some company, but for whatever reason she replied "No. No, I'm not anymore."

"Cool," he visibly relaxed. "Coz, you know, you were kind of a psycho when you were."

"I know," her stomach knotted in embarrassment and she hid her face behind a veil of hair. "It was a phase."

"So, if you're over this JONAS phase, do you think it would be okay for me to take you out Friday night?" she looked up in surprise as he grinned at her.

"Really?" she gulped. Friday was when the Lucas brothers and Stella were getting back.

"Really really," he raised one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "You're cute, Macy. And apparently normal now."

Screw JONAS, here was a guy who she had once potentially mentally scarred for life, wanting to take her out on a date. When was the last time she had that kind of attention from the Lucas's? Scratch that, when had she had that kind of attention from anyone, ever?

"Pick me up at 8."

She goes on her date in a little black dress and screens the calls coming from the old firehouse. She has seven new texts but she doesn't read any of them as she lets Randolph put his hands under her bra. She sees his wide eyes and sweaty top lip and suddenly she realizes she's got all the power, there's no waiting around for eager boys who are just dying to date a pretty girl like her. And if she throws in a little something extra, she won't ever have to be abandoned again.

In the back of her mind she knew after that she'd never be taken seriously by her peers at Horace Mantis, but hey, it was just high school.

Her only regret was avoiding Nick's eyes in the hallways, ignoring his calls after her, because he's the only one in her class that's ever been off limits. She's never had a chance with him, he had always been her favourite member of JONAS, and to be honest, he's the closest she's ever come to love. But deep down she knows it wasn't real love, just obsessive fan love that didn't go away after they became friends. So she had a crush on Nick Lucas, who cares? He didn't. He would never see her that way. And so why bother?

"Hi Macy."

The familiar voice comes out of nowhere and she jumps, looking behind her to see him standing there, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey," she sighs, patting the wooden plank next to the one she's seated on. "Figured I'd be seeing you soon."

"Yeah," he breathes, sitting down next to her and letting the tips of his toes skim across the surface of the lake.

"Well?" she prompts.

"Well, what?" he looks at her bewilderedly.

"Aren't you going to ask me about Tim?" she sulks, crossing her arms defensively.

"Is that what his name is?' his voice inflects a lack of interest, but his white knuckles gripping the boardwalk tell a different story. "He seems nice."

"Don't, Nick," she groans. "Don't be like that."

"Then what do you suggest, Macy?" he mumbles through gritted teeth. "What should I be like?"

"Can you please just try and be my friend?" she says tersely.

"Oh, so we're still friends?" he glowers at her. "See, we must have different definitions. I thought a friend was someone who wouldn't up and cut you out of their life for no reason."

"And I thought a friend was someone who doesn't ditch you for ten weeks while they go on tour," she replies angrily.

He opens his mouth with another comeback before what she said clicks in his mind and he finally realizes what happened to them. "I didn't ditch you, Macy. It was just a fall tour."

"I was alone when you went," she frowned deeper, unable to mask the tears prickling at the backs of her eyes. "And I get that it's all for your music and your fans, but it just hurts to be the one that's not special enough, that one that was left behind, that's all. I was sick of waiting for my friends to come home before my life could start again."

"Macy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you felt that way," he wraps an arm around her shoulder and it's almost like it was nearly a year ago. "I can't believe you don't think you're special."

She doesn't have the energy to tease him for being a clichéd romantic like she used to. She tilts her head up from its position in the curve of his neck just as he looks down at her. Their lips are and inch apart, she can feel his breathing against her skin and she wants more than anything to kiss him but that's definitely not allowed. There are a few moments where time seems frozen before he's no longer making eye contact and his arm isn't on her shoulder anymore. She was expecting that but she's still disappointed.

"Why are you with Tim?" he asks abruptly. "I heard him talking about you between third and fourth period. He's not a nice guy."

"Maybe I don't want nice guys," she broods, wondering how this is any of his business anyway. "My type is lousy conversation but great kissing."

"If you're not happy with him, then why are you with him?"

"Because he doesn't expect anything from me. None of the guys I date expect anything from me. I don't cling. I don't commit. I don't fall in love. It's easier that way. It's just high school."

"What about after high school?" he presses, leaning forward to stare into the water. "We graduate in a couple of months. What are you going to do about falling in love then?"

"I'm not looking for love. I don't _want_ love," she sneers.

"But what if love wants you?" he exclaims, and she startled by the frustration in his voice. "What if it's been waiting in front of you the whole time?"

She gapes at him, trying to convince herself that he means something different, he's not talking about _them_, the two of them, _together_. No way.

"What if I loved you?" It's way too quiet for this conversation to be happening, she feels like the whole world can hear them and she just wants to scream at everyone to give them some privacy.

"Would you love me back?"

She would, she knew she would, but then again she wouldn't know how. All of these expectations that she's never had to face before just seem too scary to handle right now, and she'd only end up destroying what they would have. She knew what her answer had to be, the look in her eyes tells him before she even opens her mouth, and his face falls.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she shakes her head sadly and stands. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Too late," he crosses his arms resentfully and glares at her from out of the corners of his eyes.

She frowns and flicks her bangs out of her eyes, heading towards her car. "See you at school."

"Macy, wait," he scrambles to his feet, he can't just leave it at this. "I'm recording some solo stuff with some blues musicians coming into town in a couple of weeks. Wanna come check it out?"

Her palms get sweaty, her heart starts beating faster and she can't believe she's agreeing to this.

* * *

He's on my doorstep the day before I leave for Brown.

We hadn't talked in months, although at graduation, while Stella was fussing and Joe and Kevin were congratulating me, he brusquely walked over and kissed me on the cheek without even making eye contact. That was it.

"If you keep this up, we're both going to self destruct," I hissed, prodding his chest with my finger.

He was so much more than I bargained for. I dumped Tim and started going out with Patrick, pretending not to notice when Nick stared at us in the hall, jealousy emanating from every inch of him. What's worse was how much I longed for it to be him I met in the janitor's closet for a lunchtime quickie, before admonishing myself for thinking Nick wouldn't respect me enough to subject me to something like that.

"Please, I just want to talk," He doesn't know that I'd never turn him away.

"Fine," I sigh, standing aside to let him in. "Don't you have some worldwide tour to be going on?"

"No," he states bluntly. "I didn't have enough songs to make an album. I applied for Brown University instead."

"What are you talking about?" my jaw drops.

"I'm talking about how the girl who I wanted to write all the songs for didn't want me. I sat down to write them anyway, but she left me speechless. I cared more about her that I did the music."

"No, Nick, don't…" he wasn't the only one left speechless. "Music is everything, music is your life. How could that happen?"

"Because I trusted you," he choked, wiping the back of his hands across his eyes. "I put everything I had into you and you just threw it away."

"You think I threw it away?" I gasped, my stomach churning. "How could you think I would ever do that? I stored it away in a little box in my heart so we could avoid doing exactly what we're doing right now. I gave up being with you because I knew this would happen! Don't you dare make everything I sacrificed worth nothing."

"You knew what would happen?" he takes a half threatening, half curious step towards me and I don't know whether to be scared or relieved.

"That we would have stupid fights over little things! That I might not know how to love you enough to have a strong relationship!" It's only a half-truth but it's all I can bring myself to admit.

"I would have loved you enough for both of us!" he raises his voice and I can't take it anymore.

"Well then maybe you should have fought harder for me!" I screamed.

"Maybe I should have!" he yells back. "But you were so worried about me breaking your heart that you broke your own. That's no way to live, Macy. You can't live in fear of love."

I have nothing to say to that. He's right. He's been right all along. So I stare at him with wide eyes as he gathers me into his embrace like I've always belonged there.

"Please, don't give up," he whispered into my hair. "I promise I'll never leave you."

I believed him.

* * *

**A/N: Weird weird weird. I was in a weird mood :/ But hey, at least I wrote something. **


End file.
